


Brownie Night Won't Be The Same, That's For Sure

by bad_pheasants



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Alien Romance Novels, And grows as a person, Annual Femslash Kinkmeme, Developing Relationship, Er--that's a different tag, F/F, Food Kink, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), It's more like a porn arc, Kryptonian Culture & Customs, Languages and Linguistics, Multi, Mutual Pining, Smut, Spanking, The porn undergoes character development, There's almost a plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:23:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bad_pheasants/pseuds/bad_pheasants
Summary: Maggie and Kara had hounded Alex all week to make that bread Jeremiah used to. It’s usually reserved for special occasions, but ones where Alex’s mom won’t be there. She doesn’t think she could take it if Eliza decided to criticizethat,of all things. But Kara loves it.Kara also usually helps make other food.Right now, though, there’s no special occasion, and Kara and Maggie are watching TV. Which—okay, is fine. But really, they’re not watching TV. Kara ispretendingto watch tv, but really, she’s watching Maggie watch Alex making the bread over the back of the couch with nothing short of a chin-in-her-hands, glint-in-her-eye pervy look.They're up to something.The AU where Maggie and Karatalk to each other, Maggie is annoyingly good at talking to people (and putting the pieces together), Kara finds someone to talk to about Krypton (among other things), and Alex has a hard time.for the prompt: Maggie/Kara, "alien sexualities"





	Brownie Night Won't Be The Same, That's For Sure

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt: Maggie/Kara, "alien sexualities" (for the record, I checked with the prompter, and yes, this was prompted with this triad partly in mind)
> 
> set of related events. smut will increase. as will the tag counts. tags do reflect some chapters partly written but not yet added.
> 
> Final chapter counts, however, may change.

They’re up to something. 

Maggie and Kara had hounded Alex all week to make that bread Jeremiah used to. It’s usually reserved for special occasions, but ones where Alex’s mom won’t be there. She doesn’t think she could take it if Eliza decided to criticize _that_ , of all things. But Kara loves it. 

Kara also usually helps make other food. 

Right now, though, there’s no special occasion, and Kara and Maggie are watching TV. Which—okay, is fine. But really, they’re not watching TV. Kara is _pretending_ to watch tv, but really, she’s watching Maggie watch Alex making the bread over the back of the couch with nothing short of a chin-in-her-hands, glint-in-her-eye pervy look. 

Something’s up. 

She catches Kara thwacking Maggie gently on the side. “ _Stop that, you’re being obvious._ ” 

“ _I’m her girlfriend, I’m allowed to watch._ ” 

Kara tilts her head forward and brings her hand to her face, and Alex thinks she sees Kara’s ears color slightly. 

What? “Watch”? Watch _what_? 

She kneads the dough, and avoids Maggie’s gaze—it still makes her blush, alright?—and catches a few words in the process. 

“ _Damn. Alright. Alright, I see it._ ”

“ _Oh my god, you’re being so conspicuous._ ” 

“ _Says the alien who wears all primary colors in her spare time._ ” 

“ _At least I don’t perv on my—Alex._ ” 

“ _She is exactly as good with her hands as this suggests, by the way._ ” Alex’s face burns. 

“ _I did not need to know that._ ”

“ _Oh, honey. You wouldn't have told me unless you'd thought about it._ ” 

“ _I_ told _you because you asked!_ ” 

“ _You’re the one who—_ ”

“ _Enough. Continue perving on my sister._ ” 

Alex only spares them a glance from time to time. 

She catches Kara looking over her shoulder. Kara flushes and looks away. Alex tries to ignore the squiggly feeling in her stomach. 

“What’s going on?” She asks Maggie when Maggie gets up to get another beer. 

“Don’t worry about it, Danvers.” Maggie slaps her ass. “You’re doing great.” 

Alex gives her her best “Agent Danvers” look. Maggie’s grin just gets wider. 

“You really are the whole package.” Maggie sighs, her grin turning dreamy. Alex blushes. 

“Don’t think you’re out of the woods on this one.” 

“Pretty sure I’m the wolf, on this one.” Maggie kisses her cheek and Alex assumes she’s going to swagger back towards the TV that she’s utterly and blatantly ignoring. 

Before she goes, though, she leans close to Alex’s ear. “Are you sure you don’t mean “bush?’” 

Alex swats her. Maggie scuttles away, laughter ringing. 

Alex huffs and goes back to kneading the dough. 

//

Kara blushes the entire time they’re eating. Alex tries to carry on like normal, have a conversation--but there’s really no avoiding it. Kara is red like someone told her a dirty joke. Not a dirty joke--a filthy story, and she's failing miserably to hide the reaction that she's not supposed to be having. 

Maggie takes a slow bite out of her slice of bread, holding Kara’s gaze the whole time. Kara ducks her head and gets redder than Alex has ever seen her. Alex is fairly certain she’s supposed to glare at Maggie, or be angry—something about “you don’t hit on your girlfriend’s sister”, and it feels a lot like that’s exactly what Maggie’s doing? 

On the other hand, Alex feels like they’re talking about _her_ , while she’s right there, and while she is so not _in_ on this conversation, it’s not much of a stretch to guess that the topic is something sexual. 

And Alex doesn’t feel excluded, or like the butt of the joke—they’re not acting like she’s not there, or excluding her from the conversation. They just… magically developed their own language, somehow, in the last three months, when Alex thought she was watching. But obviously, she wasn’t, not closely enough. 

And now, they’re talking about her. She’s been the topic of conversation all evening, not a thing Alex can do or say about it, and it’s unambiguously good, if also mortifying. Maggie’s been looking at her, radiant, the way she always is—now multiplied, with the laughter and the beer and the look that Alex has come to learn, on Maggie, means _want_. And Kara—

Kara is sneaking glances at her from behind her hand, as she shields her eyes from whatever Maggie is doing so that she can get a bite or two of food in before Maggie does something else. Her look has that desperate strain of utter mortification, wide-eyed and helplessly laughing at the same time, with that turn of her head that Kara would use if she was looking to Alex for help, or support, like at a family dinner, drawing on their bond, all their years being the only support the other had. 

It’s that look that confirms that they’re talking about her. And then, every time, Kara’s eyes soften—

And then she closes her eyes, covers them almost entirely with her hand so that she’s essentially blind to everything but her plate, and turns so red Alex is concerned. Or, she would be. She is, in some distant place where this isn’t happening around her. 

It’s weird; being the center of attention, when before, she wasn’t, not usually (not ever, her angsty teenage self pipes up from wherever she’s slouching and scowling these days). It stops the words in her throat, stops the anger in her gut, stops everything. Makes her feel weak, but also overwhelmingly happy and relieved, buffeted by wave after wave of something so bright and good that Alex, Alex has no idea where to even begin to process it. She can feel the tremor in her hands. Her racing heart. She thinks maybe she’s drinking too fast, so she slows down; but she’s drunk on something else. 

Maybe it’s a heart attack? She wonders. 

“I hate you.” She overhears later, doing the dishes. “I regret that I ever told you that.” 

“You love me,” Maggie insists, “Now—“ Maggie’s voice cuts off, and Alex has a feeling she’s started talking with her hands. She turns to look. 

Maggie drops her hands too fast for her to track what she might’ve been doing with them, but they’re both staring at her. 

Alex leans back against the sink, looking between them. 

“Either of you want to give me a hand? Instead of staring?” _At my ass_ , she almost says, but her eyes lock with Kara's at the exact moment she has that thought, and there goes her stomach doing that squiggly thing again, her throat closing up. 

Kara beats Maggie to the punch (for once; for someone with super-speed, she sure gets beat a lot), but she’s blushing to the roots of her hair. Alex would be amused, if her heart weren’t inexplicably pounding. What the hell is going on? 

Kara’s elbow knocks into Maggie’s side. “Yeah, Maggie, give her a hand. You did eat the most of what she made. You should say thank-you.” 

Somehow, Alex does not think that was a comment on Maggie’s eating habits. 

Maggie actually stammers. That gives way to laughter after a moment, though. She accepts defeat, shaking her head, and makes her way over to Alex’s side. Alex tries very hard to quash the warm feeling in her stomach. She should be more irritated, dammit. 

It’s hard to pull off, though, when Maggie pulls her in for a kiss that soothes all of her nerves, and her stomach is doing whatever jittery thing it’s trying to do at the same time. 

Most of her anxiety and irritation melts away once Maggie’s there and talking to her and everything feels normal and good. Alex makes sure to bump into Maggie a few times. Splash maybe a little more than she needs to. Maggie when it’s the two of them? Is still Maggie. Maggie gives as good as she gets. 

“For the record,” Maggie says later, “That was really fucking good bread.” 

// 

“That was some intense staring between you and Kara at the table,” Alex decides to say later that night, lying in bed next to Maggie. “Should I be worried?” She tries to make it sound light and humorous. 

Maggie snorts sleepily. “Danvers, you have a lot of good qualities. Subtlety isn’t one of them.” She sighs briefly, like she’s trying to wake up enough to talk. This should be an easy question, part of Alex nags at her. Maggie shifts her head onto Alex’s shoulder, and her brain short-circuits. 

Alternately, Maggie could just be full, and tired, the other part of her brain stubbornly insists. 

“I hope you realize by now that I’m a goddamn perv,” Maggie qualifies, words blurry with sleep, and that seems to support the latter hypothesis, “But I was just giving Kara shit.” 

“What about?” 

“We talked about Krypton the other day,” Maggie answers, and Alex feels the burn of something unpleasant in her guts, “Nothing super in-depth. Just cultural stuff.” She grins sleepily against Alex’s shoulder, and that should make it better, should take the mystery and therefore the anxiety and therefore the sting out of all of it—but _We talked about Krypton_ makes something else flare through her sharply, something like longing and loss. 

Alex can’t hold it against Maggie, though. Or Kara. This one… this one is all on her. 

She’s the one who stopped asking Kara about Krypton in the first place. She’s the one who keeps _not_ asking her about it. It never feels appropriate, and life always seems to get in the way when something does come up that she wants to ask about, but—

If Maggie’s asking, why can’t _she_? 

“Way more interesting than watching wannabe Cat Grants try to guess the size of Superman’s package.” 

Ah. She was asking Kara about _that_. 

“You asked her about sexual norms on Krypton.” Alex says, unable to filter all the amusement out of her voice. 

Maggie hums an assent. 

“You _are_ a perv.” 

Maggie _mm-hms_ again, curling in against her, smirk spreading. 

It pretty much confirms the suspicions Alex has been harboring all evening. Which brings with it a wave of unnameable emotions that she isn’t sure she wants to unpack right now. 

Although there is one thing…

“So that thing with the bread…” Alex prompts. 

Maggie chuckles, low and rich, and all that anxiety and emotion kick-starts something low in her gut. “What about it?” 

Alex’s mouth is suddenly dry. “Watching me make it?” 

“She might’ve mentioned that… personal things had a level of extra intimacy to them on Krypton. I asked her for an example. Apparently physicality was a big deal there, with all the automation. All that kneading.” Her voice is already a little raspy with sleep, and it gets lower and more suggestive. Alex feels herself blush. 

Maggie’s hand finds one of hers in the dark, rubbing her thumb over the knuckles, the dip of the palm, the inside curve of the joints in her fingers. “Apparently on Krypton that’s a lot like feeding me yourself.” Alex blushes harder. So that’s what Kara was reacting so strongly to. 

Why didn’t she react that way before? Alex doesn’t remember her reacting that way before when she made stuff. Granted, Kara never _told_ her, but… 

Why does every single one of those thoughts _bother_ her so much? 

“And did you know that Kryptonians can share life-force energy? I didn’t. Apparently it wasn’t done very often—something about old ways and barbaric customs. But that was like metaphorically taking in some of your life-force.” 

Alex is about to combust. 

Before, maybe, that would’ve been a cool tidbit, or a cultural detail she could research or turn over in her head. But now, just the words coming from Maggie’s mouth, the suggestion of part of Alex _in_ Maggie’s mouth, something ephemeral and essential and intimate, and with Maggie so close, the weight of her body and the scent of her hair and the promise of her voice— 

Yeah. Combust. 

Maggie raises Alex’s hand to her lips and kisses it; the palm, the inside of her wrist, like _gratitude_ , and it’s so very real, so tangible. “You take such good care of us.” 

Alex loses any and all ability to speak for a moment. 

“Andtheeating?” She squeaks out, voice high and anxious. If Maggie notices—and Alex is sure she does; she’s sleepy, not clueless, and she’s very good at setting Alex off-balance. 

“Mm.” Maggie affirms. “I mean, it’s only fair—since I took so _much_ of you in…” 

Her voice trails off, but Alex’s brain has officially stopped working. _So much of you_. Not _So much of your work_ or _your effort_. _You_. 

Maggie seems to have woken up some; that’s about the only explanation Alex can think of for the way Maggie’s hands are suddenly so clever and torturous on her skin. 

Maggie takes one of Alex’s fingers into her mouth; pulls back and adds another. Runs her tongue down between the two fingers. Takes them both deep into her mouth; even farther back. Alex whimpers, staring. _Holy fuck. Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck._

_That’s—that’s her throat._ All she can think is how open Maggie has to be, for this to work. Like she wants to give the wet heat of her body, the eagerness of it, all to Alex. Like she wants this so much that her body goes quiet for her, like any part of Alex she could hold is worth _this_. This utter openness. 

She thinks about life-force, and the idea that for Kryptonians, holding a part of someone’s soul on their tongue could’ve been a real thing. She would’ve scoffed at the idea, when her only reference was mildly traumatizing blowjobs. 

With Maggie’s mouth wrapped around her fingers like even this is an act of reverence, Alex is suddenly trembling. And so, so wet. 

Suddenly, Alex _wishes_ that Maggie could hold all of her on her tongue. 

Alex makes another sound finally when Maggie straddles her thigh, but doesn’t grind down on her, doesn’t move against her, doesn’t _take_. Doesn’t act like she’s lost against her. 

Alex is. 

Maggie hums slightly around Alex’s fingers, _Gotcha_ and sympathy all at once. Alex wants more of Maggie around her. 

Maggie finally lets Alex’s fingers slide out of her mouth, one last stroke of her tongue over them. Alex lets her hand fall down to the bed; buzzing with the sense-memory. She’s suddenly acutely aware of the contrast between the wetness on her fingers, the chill in the air, and the heat of the rest of her body—and desperate for more. She looks up at Maggie. 

Maggie settles in against her, stroking her hair, and it’s good, but it’s not enough. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Maggie murmurs, and that’s all that matters—that and the feeling of Maggie’s fingers threading through her hair, Maggie’s body a warm weight urging her down, stay in place, let go. “It’s okay. I got you. You took care of us so good tonight.” She leans close, lips brushing near her ear, breath hot on her skin. “Let me take care of you.” 

That’s good, Alex thinks, because she doesn’t have it in her to top tonight. 

Maggie moves down between her legs, and Alex is still a little confused and uncertain, at least at first. But she thinks she gets it, with Maggie covering her with her mouth, one arm firm over Alex’s hips, making her safe, making her shiver, making her weak and wet. 

And then she adds the fingers of her other hand, and Alex isn’t thinking at all.


End file.
